


Dissonance

by Fawks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Multi, OT3, Somercymaker, Spiderbyte, i can feel it, i just want them all to kiss, its gonna be sappy af eventually, learning emotions, mercymaker, super self-indulgent, this is gonna be fucking long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawks/pseuds/Fawks
Summary: “Imagine it like a locked box, lots of security lots of things to distract you and make you look else where and not notice the box. I found it and unlocked it - well I started to. I think it worked.”“So she’s got her memories back?”“No. No. I didn’t finish it’s not that straight forward the human brain isn’t a computer.” Sombra stated. “But I’ve never seen her do that, or react to Amelie.”With the resurfacing of some jarring and uncomfortable memories Widowmaker seeks the help of Sombra and Angela Ziegler to try and find out more about the life she lead before Talon.





	1. Panic

The reality of trying to undo years of horrific brainwashing meant that Angela Ziegler had to wake up at half past four in the morning for an entire week so that Sombra could haul gear into a rented and rarely used apartment. All questions of how and what the gear was were simply answered with a soft laugh and,  “It’s for Widow.” which was cryptic enough on it’s own. Widowmaker had been suspiciously absent from missions, Mercy had noted. Sombra wouldn’t share where she was or what her activities were.

On the second week of Sombra’s visits Angela woke up to her telecom ringing, no number only a tiny purple skull on the screen. It was 3.40am.    
“What Sombra?”    
“We’re here. It’s ready if you want to come and start.” 

“Now? Can’t it wait until morning?” Angela asked while she got out of bed and began dressing. 

“I mean it can, but do you want to wait.” 

Angela had been waiting for months. Ever since an anonymous message had been left for her that simply said.  _ I think we can help her, together.  _ If she was being honest, Angela had been waiting even longer than that, since she’d found Amelie was still alive she had been foolishly harbouring the hope that she could save her - something that wasn’t a possibility, at least until now. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

 

When Angela arrived at the tiny apartment it had been converted into a cross between some sort of hospital and a youth hostel, with a bunk bed shoved up against one of the walls. The majority of the room was taken up by a large coffin shaped pod that was glowing a faint and familiar shade of purple. Widowmaker was sat on the desk across from the pod. Her gold eyes flicked up at Angela as she came into the apartment. 

Sombra was sat at the desk in a chair by Widowmaker’s knees, busy typing away as text filled the monitor. Her back to the doctor. It was strange to see the two women out of combat situations. Sombra was leaning back in her chair, and while she was typing away furiously her overall posture was lazy, relaxed in her chair. However when Angela looked at Widowmaker she could see she wasn’t nearly as relaxed. Her eyes flicked from Mercy, to the door, to each window, a quick cycle that she repeated every five minutes or so. She was on guard, pretending she was relaxed for Angela and Sombra’s sake than actually calm. 

“So,” Angela started, suddenly unsure of her role in this - Sombra already seemed to have everything under control. “What was it you wanted me here for, again?” 

“A medical professional,” Sombra said, hitting the keyboard a last time before spinning in her chair to face the blonde. “We're going to attempt to recondition Widowmaker.  Again. Re-recondition.” 

Widowmaker rolled her eyes,  this was obviously an old joke. 

“Is that possible?” Angela asked, staring down at the pod. 

“I mean, not really sure. But if anyone can do it, I can.” 

“And why now?” 

Sombra looked up at Widowmaker. 

“They’re coming back.” She muttered. 

“What?” 

“Memories. I think, parts of them. Dreams, they’re sudden and painful and I don’t understand them.” 

Angela frowned. 

“I thought. I thought Talon had erased everything.” 

“So did we.” Sombra shrugged. “But obviously not.” 

“I would like for them to stop ruining what little sleep I get.” Widowmaker stated. “So I think if we try and give a bit more context to the memories. Then they won’t be as…” Sombra trailed off. 

“Jarring.” Widowmaker finished, a hard edge to her voice. 

“And I’m here to…” 

“To make sure whatever we do to Widowmaker’s head doesn’t kill her in the process.” Sombra shrugged.

Angela looked around at the mismatched and obviously stolen tech that cluttered the room. 

“No time like the present to try, I suppose.” 

 

* * *

 

Widowmaker spent most of the early morning answering Angela’s questions and sitting quietly, looking bored, as the doctor went about giving her a full medical. 

“And what’s your earliest memory?” Angela asked finally. She’d taken notes of all of Widowmaker’s dreams, most of which were simply flashes of images that she couldn’t place along with an emotion that she didn’t have the capacity to understand. 

“My earliest memory?” The french woman mused. 

Angela nodded. 

“I remember slitting my husband's throat as he slept in our bed. That's the first one I have.” 

Angela had recoiled, she hadn't sounded remorseful or pleased or anything. She'd just stated it as fact. 

“R-right. Ok. Well,” Angela took a breath. “Let's see of we can't get you some… better memories.” 

Widowmaker got down from the desk and sat on the pod that Sombra was working on.

“Is it ready to go?” 

Sombra nodded. 

“As ready as it ever will be, let's do this.” 

Widowmaker moved to pull her legs up and lay back and again Angela couldn't help but compare it to a coffin, especially as Widowmaker had pulled her visor down  hiding her eyes. She could have easily been asleep, or dead. The imagery got a little much for Angela and she got up to busy herself with the ECG leads so she could monitor Widowmaker’s heart while Sombra worked away at plugging in a series of leads to the assassin's visor. 

Angela took a deep breath, the image of the French woman in the pod had thrown her back in time.

 

_ Amelie Lacroix had never had a funeral, there had been no body to bury alongside her husband’s grave. There hadn’t even been a confirmed death - all they had known was she was gone. Presumed dead.  _ _ Everyone had known how close Angela and Amelie were, but if anything had truly driven it home it had been when Jack had told her what had happened to Gérard, and to Amelie in response. Angela had managed to keep it together only long enough for Overwatch to raise a glass to the lost agent and his wife, before Ana drove her home to save her pride the dignity of falling apart in front of her colleagues.  _

 

“We’re ready to go when you are,” Sombra’s voice pulled Angela from her thoughts and the medic quickly cleared her throat and attempted to subtly wipe her eyes on her sleeve. If Sombra saw she did not say anything. 

Mercy attached the leads of the ECG to the electrodes she’d already put on Widowmaker’s cold blue skin. When Angela turned on the cardiac monitor it beeped, slow and far between, with Widowmaker’s unusual heartbeat. 

“Okay,  Araña ,” Sombra said softly, the augments on her scalp glowing. “Here we go,” 

Widowmaker’s heart rate increased straight away, nothing to cause concern but it sped up. Her mouth became a tense line and she balled her fists at her sides. When Angela looked to Sombra the Mexican woman wasn’t looking at either of the other women in the room, instead she was staring somewhat above Angela’s head at the wall beyond - eyes glowing a faint purple, hands twitching and making movements as if she was sorting through a pile to find something in particular. She muttered something under her breath in Spanish that Angela couldn’t hear and frowned. 

Widowmaker’s breath suddenly became more erratic, her heart rate increased again, now just quicker than an average resting person. 

“Widowmaker, are you ok?” 

“Fine.” She snapped. Although everything about her body language defied her words. 

“What have they done to you, little spider… ah!” Sombra grinned. Fingers typing quickly at a keyboard that wasn’t there. “Security measures - they put in security… what are they protecting.” Sombra mused to herself. Angela had taken hold of Widowmaker’s hand. She felt helpless in the situation, she didn’t know what Sombra was doing, and clearly for Widowmaker it was more of a mental pain than physical. 

Sombra laughed once and then everything shifted. Immediately Widowmaker began to scream. 

“No! No!” She yelled, voice breaking as she sat up with enough force to yank one of the leads from the visor still over her eyes. The remaining cables kept Widowmaker from sitting up fully as she kicked and flailed inside the machine.  Sombra was yanked sideways from her seat with the movement - eyes no longer purple. 

Angela, who had lost grip of Widowmaker’s hands as the older woman lashed out quickly moved to pull the visor from her head, allowing her to sit up fully but instead Widowmaker slammed herself back into the pod. Her eyes were shut tight. 

“No, non don’t no! s'il vous plaît pas plus!” Turning her head this way and that, the heart monitor was beeping furiously and between cries Angela could hear Widowmaker's shallow quick breaths. 

Angela grabbed both of Widowmaker’s flailing hands and held them tightly in her own. 

“Widowmaker, Widow!” 

The French woman wasn’t listening. The doctor pulled Widowmaker up into a sit and held her as still as she could. 

“Widow! Look at me.” 

No response. 

“Amelie!” 

Her eyes snapped open, tears streaming down her face Widowmaker’s golden eyes found warm blue ones and she stared. 

“Breath, slowly. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” Angela said. Taking a deep breath in in time with Widowmaker’s. Her whole body was shaking. 

“And again.” 

Widowmaker didn’t say anything, merely breathed in time with Angela as the heart rate monitor’s beeping began to slow. 

After a short while Widowmaker’s hands stopped shaking. She took them from Angela’s grasp and blinked to clear her eyes. Her hands went to her face and touched the tears there. She brought her hand away and looked at it curiously. 

“What was that?” She asked quietly. 

“You were panicking, going into shock - I don’t know…” 

“It worked.” Sombra said, sounding surprised. “Look she’s crying. I didn’t even know you  _ could  _ cry, Araña.” 

“I am not -” Widowmaker began before wiping her face again. 

“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Angela asked, already knowing the answer. 

“You did something.” Widowmaker said over her shoulder to Sombra, who now that Angela was looking at her was unplugging several leads from somewhere behind her back and letting them drop to the floor. 

“I did.” Sombra agreed. 

“And that was?” Angela asked, helping Widowmaker shakily stand from the pod. The assassin didn’t say anything to deny her help so Angela rested a hand on the taller woman’s shoulder as she led her to the bottom bunk of the bed where Widowmaker sat with a huff. 

“Imagine it like a locked box, lots of security lots of things to distract you and make you look else where and not notice the box. I found it and unlocked it - well I started to. I think it worked.” 

“So she’s got her memories back?”

“No. No. I didn’t finish it’s not that straight forward the human brain isn’t a computer.” Sombra stated. “But I’ve never seen her do that, or react to Amelie.” 

Widowmaker looked up at the name. 

“I did something.” 

“So now what?” Widowmaker asked. 


	2. Memory

What happened next was that with nowhere safe to stay Sombra and Widowmaker simply hid in the apartment. Angela would visit often - and although she couldn’t deny the fact that this whole thing felt like a long con style trap she found herself coming back to the flat nearly every evening. 

For the first two weeks Sombra was mostly gone. She’d leave little notes on the table or the computer. 

  * Out late, don’t wait up xox



 

That left Widowmaker and Angela in the apartment alone for the most part. She had obviously never spent time with Widowmaker - unless she counted the time spent hiding behind cover from her scope on the battlefield. 

The assassin mostly spent her time sitting around and reading. Usually with the small TV they’d acquired one day (Angela hadn’t asked where it was from) playing noise in the background. She never seemed to want to fill the quiet with conversation. That left Angela a lot of time to read up on reconditioning treatments and therapies in the quiet of the apartment. They hadn’t tried the pod again since the first time. Widowmaker had been reluctant every time Sombra brought it up. Not that they blamed her it had clearly triggered some sort of flashback from before that she didn’t want to relive again but without it very little progress had been made since.  

Angela looked up from her holoreader to see Widowmaker asleep on the sofa. This happened a lot - it seemed Widowmaker simply slept in short quick bursts wherever she ended up. Angela had seen her sleeping at the table - an uneaten meal in front of her, countless times on the couch with a half open book and once she was sure she’d seen her resting in a doorframe with her eyes shut half asleep. Angela chuckled to herself and went back to reading before she heard Widowmaker gasp and choke on her breath, the woman sat quickly suddenly awake. Eyes wide searching the room. 

“You’re ok Amelie,” Angela said softly. 

“You.. keep calling me that.”

 Angela supposed it was strange but she couldn’t help it. She saw Amelie in everything Widowmaker did. The way she would hum to herself in the kitchen, the way her mouth tilted up in the corner in amusement, her lips, her walk the soft lilt of her voice. It was all crushingly painfully familiar. Amelie had been erased to make way for Widowmaker. That’s what Sombra had explained - but Angela refused to believe that when she was sat right across from her.  

“It’s your name. What did you remember?” 

“Nothing.” Widowmaker said it too quickly. 

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help you if you don’t talk to me about what you’re experiencing.” 

“I was married. To Gérard.” Widowmaker said. It wasn’t a question but Angela felt the need to confirm it. More a reminder to herself than Widowmaker. 

“Yes.” 

“It must have been him then.” 

“Are you going to explain or are you just going to carry on with your half answers.” Angela sighed. That drew a chuckle from the assassin. 

“It was a dream, we were at the beach… I don’t remember where or when but I was… holding their- his hand.”

Angela frowned. 

“You don’t think it was him?”

Widowmaker held her hand up in front of her face - a crease forming between her brows as she thought she slowly closed her hand. 

“They were soft.”  

Angela closed her holoreader. 

“You really don’t remember anything from before do you?” Angela asked quietly. 

Widowmaker looked over at her. Angela opened her mouth to speak closed it and tried again. “You don’t remember... me?” 

Widowmaker blinked at her. 

“Overwatch Agent: Doctor Angela Ziegler. Field name: Mercy. Medic. Surprisingly good aim with a pistol.” Widowmaker stated. 

“So just what you’ve been told?” Angela sighed, trying to ignore the ice that had settled in the pit of her stomach. 

“Target information.” Widowmaker shrugged. 

“I’m a target now?” 

“You’ve always been a target.” 

“Even now?” 

“Hm. No. You’re more of an asset.” Widowmaker smirked. 

 

_ “Oh I’m an asset am I?” Angela laughed winding her way back to the couch with her refilled glass of wine.  _

_ “Oh, of course.” Amelie teased. Shifting her legs so Angela could sit next to her. “Who else would be awake at this time and willing to share a bottle of wine with me at this hour.” _

_ “A bottle or two,” Angela laughed, looking up to the kitchen counter where the first bottle, a fancy red that Amelie brought with her that made Angela’s whole body warm up and sleepy. They were halfway through their second, a cheap white Angela already had in her fridge that Amelie grimaced at every time she took a sip but didn't stop drinking. _

_ “Or two,” Amelie chuckled as she put her own glass down. “No one I know would answer the door. They'd all tell me to go home. Wait for Gérard to come home from God knows where.”  _

_ “You're always welcome here, you know that.” Angela said, she wasn't able to look Amelie in the eye as she said it so instead stared to the bottom of her glass. Amelie pulled Angela into a hug tugging her into her side so they were both half reclined on the sofa.  _

_ “I know, I just… feel bad sometimes.”  _

_ “Because?” Amelie had started idly playing with Angela’s hair, running her fingers through the loose curls and it took everything Angela had to not lean into her touch.  _

_ “Because I'm a married woman,”  _

_ Angela stiffened up immediately, going to sit up away from Amelie’s embrace but the french woman didn't stop stroking Angela’s hair. She didn't say anything, what could she say? She had guessed early on that Amelie had figured out how she felt about her and simply entertained the idea that it wouldn't cause a rift between them. “Because I'm a married woman, who is having… feelings about someone else.”  _

_ Angela looked up from her glass but Amelie had turned her head away.  _

_ “Oh.” She said dumbly, “and uhm, do they have feelings for you too?”  _

_ Amelie met her eyes, sparkling blue and her lips curled up at the corner in amusement. Angela was suddenly aware of how very close to one another they were. She was flush against Amelie’s side and her hand was still in Angela’s hair. Angela could smell Amelie’s perfume, flowery and sharp, she was aware of how hot her face suddenly was under Amelie’s gaze.  _

_ “That’s yet to be seen,” Amelie answered softly.  _

 

“It might have been me,” Angela told Widowmaker. Dragging herself out of her chair and turning her back on the assassin. 

“You?” 

“We liked to go down to the beach together and get lunch?” 

“Really?” 

“It’s what  _ friends _ do. We were… friends.” Angela couldn’t tell her. How do you bring that up casually in conversation.  _ Oh by the way we were having an affair and we loved each other.  _ No. Angela thought it best to leave that detail out. Widowmaker’s memories and knowledge of Amelie were already complicated. If it came up naturally… Angela promised herself she’d tell her. But for now, she was content to let it slide and busy herself making a pot of coffee. 

“Do you want coffee?” Angela asked expecting Widowmaker to decline like always but was surprised. 

“Yes, I take it with milk and two-”    
“Two sugars I know.” Angela finished automatically, pulling two mugs from the cupboard.  _ Just like Amelie.  _

“So we were friends?” 

Angela jumped at the voice next to her. She hadn’t heard Widowmaker get up, let alone move across the room. 

“Yes, close friends.”

“You can tell me what she was like?… from before.”

“You, Amelie." The doctor corrected. "She’s just you from before.” 

Widowmaker rolled her golden eyes and reached across Angela for her mug. This was the closest they had been since Widowmaker had been in the pod, and she was significantly more relaxed, Angela could see it in the way she held herself, one hip to the side shifting her weight periodically.  _ Just like Amelie.  _ Angela looked up at the slightly taller woman. Widowmaker stared back, the mouth curling up at the corners in amusement. 

“What?” Widowmaker asked. 

“I think, aside from the obvious… she was very much like you are now.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“I think so.” Angela said, aware of how close they were - without the wine and with years of difference between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sporadic updates because inspiration hits once in a blue moon on a Wednesday and I'm hyped up about the anniversary event.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Tah for helping me out with ideas and bugging me until I wrote this.


End file.
